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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731643">Hand Job</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee'>Sophia_Bee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard: Does What it Says on the Tin [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Queer Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:21:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky and Joe on a mission.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard: Does What it Says on the Tin [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>354</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hand Job</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Does what it says on the tin! So says <b>Leafeylocket</b>, beta extraordinaire.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicky knows he’s in for it the moment Joe’s fingers press into his hip bone. He lies perfectly still as Joe rubs his calloused fingers back and forth across the soft fabric of the worn jeans he’s been wearing for the last week. Nicky holds back a shiver. </p><p>It’s that quiet time if night, long after the sun has dropped below the horizon, hours before the sky grows light again. The only sounds are Andy’s nasal intake of breath punctuated now and then by Nile muttering something unintelligible in her sleep, a car horn In the distance, a yell from the street below, the last of the late night crowd stumbling home. Then that same quiet. Nicky eyes close as he concentrates on the feeling of Joe’s touch. </p><p>It could be a dream, a slight reflex of muscle driven by Joe shifting into a lighter stage of sleep. It could be one of the bad dreams, the kind that start slow and end with Joe gripping Nicky’s hip as he shakes with silent sobs from one of the countless traumas they’ve endured over the years. Joe’s fingers shift from their pattern, slide up to the edge of his waistband and tug softly on a belt loop. Nicky sucks in a sharp breath. It’s not a dream. Joe is not asleep. </p><p>Three weeks in Eastern Europe chasing a sex trafficking ring Copley had identified. Three weeks since leaving London. Three weeks since fucking like it might be the last time. It’s always like that before they go out; everything feels on edge. They can never escape the knowledge that they are eternally balanced on the precipice of the unknown. Nine hundred years, countless missions, millions of faded memories but always the same fear in Joe’s eyes. Every time Nicky cradles his face in his hands and looks into those eyes and tells the man he loves the truth they both know: everything dies. He reminds Joe that they have lived with this for lifetimes, that they both know the ultimate price. Joe always gazes back at him, those eyes shining with tears and answers, “I know, but what if your time comes before mine?” The only answer Nicky can ever give is to tangle his hands on Joe’s curls, crush their mouths together in a bruising, desperate kiss and fuck him until they both forget. </p><p>Three weeks. Three weeks of harrowing plane rides crouched next to pallets of whatever contraband smuggled by the shady criminals they’ve hitched a ride with, on winding roads with the four of them crammed into a stolen car. Three weeks of sharing meals, booze and dingy safe houses where they all sleep in one room. Three weeks….</p><p>Joe’s fingers slip under Nicky’s waistband and resume the same pattern, back and forth, stroking the soft skin, pressing on his hip bone. Nicky’s groin starts to flood with warmth and before he can stop himself he arches his back and presses his ass back against Joe’s thighs, feeling the stretch, and moans. </p><p>Andy grunts and shifts. </p><p>
  <i>...shit…</i>
</p><p>They both freeze. Nicky’s heart pounds. He can feel Joe’s breath hot in the back of his neck; can feel his body pressed along his backside, can feel his half hard cock jammed against his ass. They stay still for a long moment, breathing in unison, listening. The room is still. Nicky heats the rhythm of Andy’s breathing slowly  settle. He counts to ten once. A second time. Joe’s fingers twitch against his hip. The warm, liquid arousal in his groin spreads. Finally Nicky sucks in a breath, arches his back again and presses himself back against Joe a second time. </p><p>“Nicolo,” Joe hisses hotly into Nicky’s ear, his voice thick with want, and Nicky cannot contain the thrill of hearing his oldest name on his lover’s lips. </p><p>“per favore,” Nicky answers. </p><p>
  <i>...please please please…</i>
</p><p>Nicky’s fingers fumble with the button of his jeans, pulling down the zipper. He will never stop marveling at the zipper. He has to give Joe room. Joe follows his cue, his hand plunging under Nicky’s underwear, his wrist cocked at an odd angle, his fingers closing around Nicky’s now-hard cock, his other hand coming up at that same moment to cover Nicky’s mouth just as he lets out another moan. </p><p>The whole thing is deeply imperfect. There is no time for Joe to suck kisses along the column of Nicky’s neck, across his clavicle, down his chest. No time for him to nuzzle his groin, to leave soft kisses on his sensitive inner thighs. No time for Joe to whisper ancient erotic Arabic poetry in Nicky’s ear until Nicky squirms and snaps at Joe to get on with it. Instead it’s quick and dirty out of necessity and always reminds Nicky of their early days. </p><p>The early days were marked by endless travel and wonder as they slowly discovered their deep desire for each other. They were clumsy with lust, unskilled in ways to touch each other, and it still stands out in Nicky’s memory as one of the most glorious moments of their endless life together. They have learned since then. They have had long days and endless nights, exotic locales, more time than they ever asked for. Yet it is the faltering and clumsy moments that always make Nicky’s heart sputter, make his breath catch, remind him of that moment in time when they realized they belonged to each other; realized that they wanted each other in every way imaginable. </p><p>Joe grips Nicky’s cock with his deft fingers. He slides them up and down. Nicky’s soft grunt is muffled by Joe’s hand and his brow furrows. It’s not quite right. There’s too much drag, too much sensation, his jeans mean he can’t feel as much of Joe as he wants...Nicky squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. Normally by the time Joe started to get him off Nicky would be slick with precum. Not tonight. Not when it’s a quick and dirty hand job with the rest of the team sleeping nearby. Joe strokes him a few more times then suddenly releases Nicky’s cock, leaving Nicky to whine hotly against Joe’s palm at the interruption. </p><p>“Shhhh,” Joe whispers in his ear as he releases his hand from his mouth. Nicky bites at his lip and the sound of Joe spitting into his palm leaves him almost sighing with relief. A moment later Joe’s hand is back, slick and perfect. The other hand that had been muffling Nicky’s moans slides up under his old and worn T-shirt, skimming across the twitching muscles of Nicky’s abdomen, sliding up his rib cage until Joe’s fingers rest lightly on one of his nipples. Nicky squirms in anticipation at the feathery touch. </p><p>“One sound,” Nicky closes his eyes at Joe’s voice in his ear, his breath hot against his skin, his beard catching on the edge of the stubble that runs along the edge of Nicky’s jaw, a result of bathrooms and running water being few and far between. “One little noise,” Joe repeats, “and I stop.” </p><p>Expletives in no more than ten different languages, some ancient and forgotten, run through Nicky’s head but no matter how tempted he is, none escape his lips. Nicky is more interested in coming than he is in telling Joe he’s a bastard. With that warning, Joe’s fingers twist Nicky’s nipple just as his hand tightens around Nicky’s aching cock and starts to work the shaft in earnest. Nicky’s hips snap forward as he desperately tries to fuck into Joe’s hand but Joe somehow manages to pin Nicky down with just his elbow, holding him back. Nicky grimaces, swallows a moan, then he arches his back, pushing his ass against Joe’s now hard cock and relishes how this makes Joe momentarily lose his rhythm, a reminder that he’s not the only one with power here. They both know that he might have Nicky pinned down and silenced but Nicky can change that if he decides to. </p><p>Joe’s pace quickens. They can’t take it slow. Nicky isn’t prone to staying quiet long and neither of them want to deal with Andy rolling her eyes at them or the utter look of horror they might get from Nile. They don’t want to go through yet another speech, to have to explain that sex has always been part of the human experience and the concept of privacy is a relative new one, so deal with their fucking and leave them alone. </p><p>The slow coils of lust that have been growing in Nicky’s groin start to tighten and sharpen, and a familiar ache blooms in a way he cannot ignore. His thighs twitch, his toes curl and tingle. It feels so good...he’s going to….</p><p>“Yusuf,” Nicky whispers, his voice strangled, begging. “I’m almost…”</p><p>“Wait.” </p><p>Nicky lets out a whimper as Joe’s hand leaves his cock. It returns a split second later holding a starched white handkerchief that almost glows in darkness. </p><p>Nile had teased Joe about the handkerchief she’d spied in Joe’s pocket once, going on about how quaint and old fashioned it was. Nicky had clamped his mouth shut and glanced at Joe, not willing to get in the middle of what he knew came next. Joe had met Nicky’s glance with a look that was so fond it made Nicky ache in a multitude of ways. Then he had turned those sharp, clever eyes towards Nile and gave her one of his sassy looks; the kind Nicky loves, with one eyebrow cocked and an amused half-smile, and Nicky knew Nile was about to learn something she didn’t quite expect. </p><p>“It’s for fucking.” </p><p>Nile choked and her whole face flushed. Joe shrugged and added, almost too casually, “It gets messy.” Nicky managed to not sink his face into his palm and instead flashed an apologetic smile towards Nile and Andy. Andy put a comforting hand on their newest member’s shoulder all while glaring back at both Nicky and Joe. </p><p>“You’ll get used to it. Not many secrets left after hundreds of years,” Andy glared even harder at the two of them, her voice tight, “even small ones.” </p><p>That same handkerchief is pressed against the tip of Nicky’s now leaking cock. They have no idea the next time they’ll be near a launderette and they travel light, which means no extra clothes. Nicky’s hips jerk raggedly, he sucks in a deep, shaking breath, trying to hold back, trying….</p><p>“Let it go, Nicolo” Joe whispers against his cheek. His fingers roll Nicky’s nipple between them just as Nicky turns his head so Joe can capture his mouth in a crushing kiss. It’s just enough of everything and Nicky comes. </p><p>If they were alone Nicky would arch his back, curl his toes and let his body shake. Instead he tenses all his muscles and tries to keep his body from jerking too hard. Joe’s arms clamp around him, holding him tightly as Nicky’s orgasm wrenches through him with a ferocity that Nicky knows will leave him boneless and spent. Joe’s mouth kisses him over and over, muffling the high pitched whines from the back of Nicky’s throat that he cannot contain. </p><p>When his body has slowed, and he can think again, Nicky rolls himself over in the tiny bed they share to face Joe, staring at the barely visible contours of his lover's face. </p><p>“Thank you,” Nicky manages to slur. He wants to offer the same to Joe, to touch him, but his body is limp and his eyes are heavy, and he can barely form words. He dips his head and rests his forehead against the solidness of Joe’s chest, inhales the familiar mix of sweat and body odor mixed with the grassy,earthy scent of his come. His hand fists Joe’s T-shirt instead of sliding down to find Joe’s hard cock that is currently pressing into Nicky’s thigh. Nicky is weary and spent, and so close to sleep.  </p><p>“It’s okay,” Joe whispers in Italian, always knowing his Nicolo so well. “I’ll manage myself. Sleep, my love.” </p><p>“Grazie.” Nicky manages to whisper one more time, just before his eyes drift shut and he sleeps.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~fin~</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please feel free to comment or leave KUDOS! I really don’t mind them, just like Nicky doesn’t mind a quick and dirty hand job in the middle of the night. He really doesn’t mind at all.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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